For the Love of Nick by Jill Shalvis Page A

look at her.
    Staring in front of her out the windshield, she ignored him.
    But unlike Ted, who’d always seemed to have a lot to say, Nick said nothing.
    She fiddled with her seat belt. Touched her backpack. Chewed her lip. “What?” she finally demanded, her gaze whipping back to his. “What are you looking at?”
    “You tell me.”
    “I don’t want to play any guessing games here, Nick.”
    “Funny. Me, either.” He set a hand on hers, over the steering wheel. “Come up. Get your pictures. Get some rest. The end. Can you do that?”
    “Especially the end part.”
    Now his smile reached his eyes. “That’s a girl. One step at a time, right? Let’s go.”
    One step at a time. Easier than it sounded, but she got out of the car and grabbed Sadie’s leash. She hadn’t wanted to put him out, hadn’t wanted to be any sort of burden, but she’d already blown his obvious plans for the evening with the human Barbie Doll.
    And as it had been all those years before, he hadn’t said a word to make her feel bad, not one. Hadn’t told her how stupid she’d been to get into this ridiculous situation in the first place.
    Hard as it was to accept the help, after so many nights in the cramped car if he had so much as a comfortable chair for her to nap in, she’d be eternally grateful.
    He led her through the small front yard. On either side, there were impeccable gardens. Grass so green and thick one could get lost in it, flowers of every hue in the rainbow.
    In contrast, Nick’s yard was mostly brick, with two large potted trees.
    “Low maintenance,” he said, putting his key in the lock. “I’m gone for long stretches. No need tokeep killing pretty flowers with my neglect.” He gestured her in first.
    But Danielle hesitated. “What about Sadie?”
    “Does she have an aversion to being inside?”
    “No.”
    “Well, then, show her in.”
    “She’s…” Danielle looked down at Sadie, knowing that while the dog was her own personal treasure, she was also not easy. “She can be a bit messy.”
    “I hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly, waiting with that same calm patience he’d shown her since she’d first walked into the photo studio. The same calm patience he’d shown her all those years ago.
    “Be good,” she whispered to the dog.
    “Make yourself at home.” Nick took them through a wide, open living room sparsely furnished with light oak furniture, photographs from all over the world and the biggest couch she’d ever seen.
    Covered in cushions, it was dark forest green and so inviting she nearly crumpled on it right then and there. Her body actually leaned toward it, begging, but Nick kept walking.
    With an exhausted sigh, she followed, Sadie in tow, her toenails clicking on the hardwood floors.
    The kitchen was light and airy, too. There was a basket of fruit on the counter that had her mouth watering. And a loaf of bread right next to it.
    When had she last eaten? There’d been the burger for lunch, but nothing for breakfast…
    Nick opened the refrigerator. “You’re in luck, I actually bought some food the other day. Usually this place is empty. What would you like?”
    “The photos.”
    “Yes, your pictures,” he said with the first hint of impatience in his voice. “But first, food. When did you last eat? What did you last eat?” He craned his neck and looked her over. “You look like a good wind could blow you over. Never mind,” he said in disgust when she just lifted her chin. “Good God, why would anyone ask a woman what she wants to eat? She’ll say nothing, and then just as likely eat everything on my plate. We’ll have soup and sandwiches,” he decided, talking to himself now. “Fast and filling.”
    Pride warred with fierce hunger at the thought of hot soup and a big sandwich. “Do you always feed perfect strangers just because they look hungry?”
    “We’re hardly perfect,” he said calmly, opening a can of soup, pouring it into a pot and putting it onthe stove.